The Pegasus Corollary to Murphy's Law
by SG-girl
Summary: One team's life seems to be nothing more than a series of Murphy's law jokes.
1. Intro

_**Title: **__The Pegasus Corollary to Murphy's Law_

_**Rating: **__M_

_**Warnings: **__Language, violence, original characters, adult situations. Also, I self-beta'd so that's a warning in and of itself._

_**Disclaimer:**__ I don't own Stargate: Atlantis or its characters. My team is a figment of my mind and as such belongs to me… as does the rest of the little world I live in._

_**Character Key (by rank):**_

**Lt. Cherijo "Cherry" DuQaine**

**1st Sgt. Kellen Tucker**

**MSgt. Ryan Eppes**

**GySgt. Dean Bauer**

**SSgt. Jason O'Neil**

**SSgt. Jack Winchester**

**Sgt. Danny Taylor**


	2. Chapter 1

_**Lorne- If you have a personality conflict with your superior, YOU have the conflict, HE has the personality.**_

"No thanks, but I appreciate the thought,"

"It's not a suggestion,"

With a sigh verging on overly-dramatic, Lt. Cherry DuQaine slumped into the chair across the desk and tugged at her blonde French braid. In Evan Lorne's experience, blonde – with certain exceptions – meant dumb.

In DuQaine's case, it meant stubborn as hell.

"I don't _want_ my own team." Usually Marines didn't whine, mostly to maintain the BAMF Corps image, but when they did, they went for it, just short of a kicking-screaming hissy-fit.

Lorne, having a Marine or two of his own, plus the couple hundred under his command, was unfazed.

"Well, you're getting one." Evan said, channeling his voice into the tone he used when explaining to the Marines they couldn't shoot the natives who were poking them with pitchforks. Oddly enough, it was a tone of voice he had to use quite often and not just with the Marines. Sheppard was a repeat customer of that particular tone.

"I could politely decline." DuQaine said, testing the waters. Anyone else, it would've had a 50/50 chance of working. For the pretty lieutenant, the odds were significantly reduced, if only for the sole reason that it was mentioned in her jacket that she pulled this when the only other option was resorting to violence.

Her formative years as a lieutenant had been spent under General O'Neill's command and Evan didn't miss the fact that while she'd picked up certain aggravating personality traits from O'Neill, there were certain quirks to the lieutenant that could have only come from prolonged exposure to one John Sheppard.

"In that case, I would politely make it an order." Evan said, picking up his stylus, tapping it on his tablet PC. DuQaine muttered under her breath and slumped in the chair. It was as close to surrender as he was going to get, so he took it.

"You get to pick them." It was an attempt to placate and the deadly look in DuQaine's green eyes said it was a bad one.

"I have trouble pickin' what to eat for breakfast. How am I gonna pick…" she trailed off, looking at the floor.

"Do you want help?" because that's what she was asking without really asking. DuQaine looked up, a faint smile on her lips… although Evan would have to have been blind not to miss the not-so-subtle way that she'd manipulated him into it. Not that he'd put up much a fight. She was after all a drop-dead gorgeous young woman and while she was a subordinate – and that just caused an all new slew of problems – he didn't mind the opportunity to spend time with her.

"That would be fantastic, Major." Evan had to bite the inside of his lip to keep from displaying both his delight and amusement. Ten minutes after DuQaine left – after one last flirtatious attempt at offering up what she considered to be a more qualified candidate – Sheppard poked his head into Evan's office.

"How'd she take it?" A fairly innocuous question considering Sheppard had dumped the task of informing DuQaine on Evan and taken off to parts unknown. Evan raised his head and scowled to tell his CO exactly what he thought about the man's vanishing act. Sheppard gave a grin and was gone as quickly as he arrived.

Evan just shook his head, wondering how he'd wound up with an eight year old for a CO.


	3. Chapter 2

_**Bauer- Anything you do can get you shot, including doing nothing**_

A formal interview tended to suggest that some form of questioning would happen during the course of the event. To be honest, Major Lorne had never actually called it a formal interview, but Dean had heard through the grapevine that the new L.T. was looking for an as-of-yet-to-be assembled team and that a few guys from his platoon had already been called into her office, so he'd gone ahead and assumed.

The scene that greeted him when he got into the conference room, however, wasn't anything he'd ever seen in any kind of interview. The lieutenant had her forehead on the table, hands folded over the back of her head, talking to the man beside her. Lorne had a tired expression on his face that smoothed into a long-suffering smile as Dean made his presence known.

"Come in, Gunny," At the announcement, DuQaine's head rose, ponytail bobbing. Startled yet vaguely sleepy green eyes met Dean's and he found himself drifting a little until the voice of reason reminded him this was an officer, not some random hot chick in a bar.

"Yes, sir; no thank you, ma'am," Dean said in response to the invite and to the water bottle DuQaine waved in his direction. He dropped into the ergonomic desk chair and tried not to relax too much even though it felt good.

"How was P5R…" DuQaine's voice trailed off as if trying to remember where Dean's platoon had been a few days ago. He was a little surprised she would remember something like that even though she was an officer and therefore omniscient when it came to all things mission-related. The guys Dean knew who'd already been called in were solid run'n'gun guys, the kind you wanted for a field team and he didn't doubt DuQaine knew that.

"392, ma'am; it was cold, actually. Database didn't say anything about it being an ice-planet, so we froze our…" Dean stopped, realizing he was about to say something inappropriate in front of two officers.

"Yeah, I pretty much just ignore the database at this point," DuQaine drawled, opening the file in front of her. Dean knew enough to recognize his jacket when he saw it.

"Okay, Gunny," Lorne said, that smile still on his face. "Tell us about yourself." Used to this kind of interrogation/interview, Dean launched into the self-descriptive spiel he'd been using since he made sergeant. When he finished, DuQaine had a glassy look in her eyes, but Lorne was still smiling; it wasn't hard to tell which officer was more used to an administrative command.

"Thank you, Gunny," Lorne said, which Dean took as a dismissal. He started to stand, but DuQaine's voice stopped him.

"Who you favorin' in the Penn/St. Pierre match?" she asked and it took Dean a moment to realize she was talking about the upcoming UFC match that was _the_ conversation topic in the barracks, even among Marines who had no clue about the UFC and just wanted peer respect.

"Penn, ma'am," one of DuQaine's delicate eyebrows arched and for the first time during the whole process a smile played at the corner of her mouth.

"Mind if I ask why?" that one question sounded like a set-up, but Dean pushed aside the warning bells in his head and even managed to dredge up a return smile.

"Well ma'am, Penn has the experience and the power. St. Pierre's a true athlete, but I'm pretty sure he's gonna get his butt kicked." He even managed not to sound contrite about his choice because he really wasn't and he didn't want to come across as an ass-kisser.

"Hmmm." she didn't look too surprised so Dean was willing to bet she'd asked the question before and gotten the same answer. He rose because if Lorne's dismissal had been a little vague, DuQaine's had been downright obvious.

"Ma'am, sir," Dean saluted them and left, feeling like he'd just walked a gauntlet.

He didn't give it much thought because his platoon had was going off-world at 1400 and their current lieutenant was a little on the flaky side. In fact, Dean still wasn't thinking about it two days later when his radio beeped in his ear.

"If this is about that girl again, Sergeant, I'm gonna kick your ass," he said, knowing it was Dism calling—again—to ask exactly how much he needed to put in his AAR and questioning whether or not he really needed to forward a copy to Major Lorne because the man probably would get around to reading it in a couple months and why should they have to do that because it just seemed like a big fuckin' waste of everyone's time.

"Less about a girl, more about a guy, Gunny," DuQaine's voice made Dean drop the water bottle in his hand, the—luckily—unopened container hitting his boot and bouncing down the stairs. Mouthing a curse, Dean hurried after it.

"Lieutenant, um, ma'am, can I help you?" When in doubt, go with what you know. Dean had been raised by a single mother and an older sister, he knew which situations politeness could help out in and this was one of them.

"Got a sec, Gunny?" Looking at his watch as he used his other hand to scoop up the bottle, Dean nodded, realized she couldn't see him, and confirmed.

Two minutes later, he stood before her, feeling like a kid sent to the principal's office for something someone else did. He hoped the expression his face wasn't nearly as uncomfortable as the expressions on the faces of the other four men in the room. DuQaine—still in her green on greens—was behind her desk, alternating between glaring at her laptop and chugging water for a lime-green water bottle. Dean wondered if this scenario would be indicative of their time together.

She managed a smile that was only half-smug as she informed them that while their taste in UFC fighters sucked, she hoped to cure them of it over the next fourteen months.

There couldn't have been a better indication of what this TDY was going to be like.


	4. Chapter 3

_**DuQaine- Don't ever be first, don't ever be last, and don't ever volunteer for anything**_

Water-boarding had nothing on command staff meetings.

Neither did bamboo slivers under the fingernails…

…or electro-shock treatment…

…or being forced to listen to Prince.

Cherry would've played Solitaire if she wasn't stuck between Captains' Perkins and Roberts. They were nice, but weren't above tattling just to watch her squirm. Although, there was serious doubt as to whether Sheppard would _actually_ punish her because he often played Solitaire during meetings and usually got caught by McKay; she was pretty sure her CO wasn't *that* hypocritical.

"Okay, onto mission requests." Sheppard sounded as bored as Cherry felt, but since he would walk out of the room and remember half of what he just said, and she had to remember it backwards and forwards, she couldn't goof-off.

_Totally unfair._

Drifting as Sheppard droned on, Cherry focused on her past to keep from wreaking havoc in the present.

She'd been content as an E9. She'd muttered the usual bullshit about officers under her breath, handled her responsibilities with what she thought was a good work ethic. The promotion—a left-field ambush by General Landry—had sent her running all over the mountain looking for advice, the most helpful of which came from Daniel Jackson who told her to 'take it and get the hell out of his office.' Since passing up a commission was tantamount to career suicide, Cherry had done her stint in OCS, wound up with a new pay-grade to learn, and a position in an alien city in a galaxy far far away.

After all that bullshit, here she sat, Lt. Cherijo "Cherry" Victoria DuQaine, stuck in a fucking personnel meeting. At the moment, shoving bamboo slivers under her nails _was_ preferable. She snorted at the thought, shifting in her chair.

"Thanks for volunteering, DuQaine," That tone of voice was _not_ good. Raising her gaze from her laptop, Cherry looked at her CO. Sheppard had a grin on his face the size of Texas and something in that expression told her she'd just fucked up badly.

"No problem," she said, managing to dredge up a smile that felt more like a grimace. On Sheppard's right, Lorne was smirking, confirming her suspicions.

Slouching in her chair, Cherry felt a headache beginning to form in her temples as she stared at the Happy Bunny wallpaper on her laptop. Great, absolutely friggin' great. Now she had an assignment and no clue what it was. Two seconds after the thought went through her head, the IM icon on her taskbar started flashing.

It would be wrong to IM during a CSM… but then again, it was wrong to have CSM's in the first place, so she clicked on the flashing bar.

**:** Congratulations, Lt. DuQaine. You've just volunteered to take your newly minted team on a two week survey of the ruins on P7X-948 with the Archaeology unit! We the command staff here on Atlantis, hope this announcement thrills you and that you continue to enjoy your time here in the Lost City of the Ancients.

Cherry looked up from her computer and narrowed her eyes at the Air Force officer who was pointedly looking at his computer screen. Turning her attention back to the keys, she put her fingers to work.

**:** Sarcasm is a very unbecoming trait, sir.

The smile that twitched at the corners of his mouth told her he'd received the message.

Blessedly, there were no more IM messages.


	5. Chapter 4

_**DuQaine- Weather ain't neutral**_

SSgt. Jack Winchester sneezed as he passed her, heading deeper into the safety of the cave and away from the downpour outside. Since she was trying hard _not_ to turn into her mother, she didn't tell him to cover his mouth… even if she did _think _it.

"Sure don't rain like this in Texas." 1stSgt. Kellen Tucker muttered as he slogged past, squishing with every step. Since the rest of the team was already inside, Cherry followed her 2i/c further into the shelter of the cave. It probably _did_ rain like this in Texas… Tucker just hadn't paid attention.

The rain started five minutes after they left the village, putting them three miles from the Gate in the opening sequence of a Noah's Ark biopic. After falling on her ass twice, Cherry had ordered the men to find shelter, and Winchester, outdoor aficionado – or "major Deliverance fan", according to Tucker – had found the cave before the rest of them even gained their bearings in order to start looking.

"Winchester, cover your fucking mouth." She emerged into the cavern just in time to hear SSgt. Jason O'Neil gripe at Winchester as the man let out another hurricane sneeze. The lanky marine who doubled as their corpsman – only because he actually paid attention during the 'How to Stop Your Teammate from Bleeding Out and Other Medical Minutiae' seminar – flipped O'Neil the bird. O'Neil returned the favor.

"Boys," Cherry warned, wrapping her arms around her torso. Outside, the rain had been warm, but in the shelter of the cave, she was getting cold and judging by the hands being rubbed together, she wasn't alone. Sgt. Danny Taylor was perched on a nearby rock, giving her an expectant look with his expressive blue eyes and beside him, holding the wall up with his massive shoulders GySgt. Dean Bauer's look was less 'patiently waiting for my CO to perform a miracle' and slightly more 'hurry the fuck up, I'm cold… ma'am.'

They'd been a team for almost four months now, and the men were comfortable enough to curse in front of her, mostly because that was the kind of example she set for them. There was a life lesson to be learned somewhere in that mess, but she was too cold to think about what it was.

"What're the odds of findin' dry firewood?" Cherry asked, addressing Winchester because he'd found the cave and though she was a Marine, wilderness survival was not her strong suit. Besides, the only other option was huddling together for warmth and they weren't _that_ good of friends yet.

"Better luck of finding O'Neil a date." Winchester sniggered at his joke, earning himself a deadly look from the man in question. Cherry put a hand over her face to hide her smil – and horror – and spoke through her fingers.

"Whoever don't wanna cuddle with Winchester for body heat better find some firewood." The frantic scuffle of combat boots on the dirt floor as her men rapidly vacated the premises told her just how much they didn't appreciate the idea.


	6. Chapter 5

_**DuQaine- Teamwork is essential; it gives the enemy other people to shoot at**_

Winchester looked like he'd walked into a fucking door.

The door (Taylor) didn't look so great either.

Neither man offered an explanation and Cherry didn't ask for one because (a) _they_ were Marines and (b) she was a _female officer_ so the most she was going to get was 'no, ma'am', 'yes, ma'am', or 'what black eye, ma'am?' Even though she wouldn't get a straight answer, Cherry had the sneaking suspicion should any explanation be forthcoming it would involve a certain blonde in Botany.

Lorne was in the Gate room as her team leaving, and he took a break in his conversation with Lt. Marsden to give the two men a look that they missed because they were fascinated with their boot laces. When he switched the look to her, all Cherry could do was shrug because damned if she knew what was going on and damned if she was going to expound on a senior officer's suspicions when she couldn't even expound on her own. She was pretty sure the rest of the team knew what was going on, and she was equally sure none of them were going to tell _her_, let alone the Major.

The walk to the village was uneventful and uncomfortable because no one was talking and it was obvious it had to do with the fight and there wasn't enough awkward small talk in the galaxy to fill that void. So, aside from Bauer sneezing non-stop because of alien pollen, the trek was quiet.

It was the only part of the day that was…

One of her men, she wasn't sure which one because they were all 6" plus and towered over her 5'10 frame hit her from the side in a crash tackle that knocked her flat in the wheat field that wasn't really a wheat field. All the air whooshed out of her body, leaving her breathless and she opened her mouth to gasp as – blue eyes, blond hair, penchant for heroics, yep, that'd only be one guy – Tucker rolled off her. He grinned – the insane Marine Corps 'we're getting shot at!' look only Infantry had – and offered her a hand up that rocketed her off the ground and into his arms.

"Thanks," She wheezed, pulling away, but keeping low because while the natives weren't Annie Oakley, they had the indiscriminate fire thing down pat and she didn't want to tempt fate. Tucker reached into the grass at their feet, picking up her P-90, handing it back. The clasp on the front of her vest was broken, probably in the collision with Tucker, and she had to settle for cradling the weapon against her chest.

"No problem, ma'am." He drawled in his thick Texas accent and if he'd had a ten-gallon hat, she was pretty sure he would've tipped it to her. He disappeared into the grass at her right in a caveman bent-forward sort of run and she followed, clutching her weapon tightly.

A few minutes, she passed on the life-saving favor, knocking Bauer out of the way of a knife-swinging native.


	7. Chapter 6

_**Tucker- No matter which way you have to march, it's always uphill**_

As far as officers went, Lt. DuQaine wasn't bad, even if she did watch Grey's Anatomy and listen to the fuckin' weirdest music ever. Her redeeming qualities – aside from being able to corral five Marines with a minimum of violence – included a sarcastic streak that made Dr. McKay's seem infantile, more common sense than was usually found in a lieutenant, and good turn-around rate after injuries. So far, she seemed to be a good CO even if she was ten years his junior.

The fact that she was cute, well, Kellen wasn't sure if that was a pro or a con… yet.

"The next one to whine, complain, and/or otherwise bitch is gonna get my foot crammed so far up their ass, they're gonna be able to taste whatever the heck I just stepped in." DuQaine drawled in her Georgia-peach accent, turning on the slope so she could glare down at the rest of them who up until a few seconds ago had been whining, complaining, and/or otherwise bitching. Kellen tilted his head back and shaded his eyes with one hand so he could get a view of his CO without the twin suns blinding him. She looked like she was in the sort of mood where she would in fact shove her boot in their ass without any remorse.

Of course, he'd come to realize, she usually looked like that.

Kellen decided this sort of comment would probably evoke a negative reaction, so he kept quiet.

"Hilltopia, Planet of the Hills, the White Cliffs of Dover." Taylor had been coming up with names for the planet from the minute they stepped through the Gate, which coincidentally enough was on a hill. "Planet Everest, Alpsland," The man's constant muttering wasn't helping the situation any.

"Foot. Up. Ass!" DuQaine threatened before turning and continuing to trudge up the hill. Kellen didn't bother to hide his grin as Taylor ignored the threat and kept muttering. Luckily as the hill got steeper, the dialogue stopped. By the time they reached the top, all of them, including DuQaine – who had been known to jog with Ronon in the mornings – were breathing hard, almost to the point of gasping.

"Why do I get the feeling the Ancient's did this alleged "survey" from the air?" Winchester grumbled at the ground, bent over, hands on his knees. DuQaine shot him a dirty look from where she was crouched, but didn't carry through on her earlier threat, probably because she was too winded and probably because she agreed.

"Anythin' showin' up?" she asked, craning her head around to look at the men behind her, all of who – Kellen included – were trying not to look at their CO with anything other than professional respect. Everyone's eyes, grateful for a new, non-blonde female target, flicked to O'Neil. There were three gene carriers on the team: DuQaine and Bauer naturally and O'Neil through gene therapy. Somehow, O'Neil always ended up with the life signs detector though. No one was really sure why other than he seemed to bitch less about it than the other two.

"Nothing; I don't know why McKay sent us out here anyway. The database said this place was all mountains." O'Neil said, giving the handheld a shake as if that was going to make the machine show him something different.

"'Cuz I'm bein' punished," Kellen was pretty sure none of them were supposed to have heard DuQaine's mutter, but they all did and pretended they hadn't. McKay was just petty enough to send them on an inane mission just to prove that he could… also to prove that he didn't appreciate Marine humor. The only reason Sheppard didn't know was because no one was willing to rat out McKay and spend the next four months with a cold shower. Finally with a sigh, DuQaine shrugged her pack a little higher on her shoulders and straightened, turning to face them.

"Okay, boys, move it out." And for the next mile they were forced to listen to Taylor hum the Rawhide theme song under his breath… until DuQaine pushed him into a stream.


	8. Chapter 7

_**O'Neil- There is always a way and it usually doesn't work**_

" 'You don't frighten us with your silly knees-bent running around advancing behavior.' " Sometimes Lt. DuQaine said things that made Jason sure he was having a stroke. Today was no exception, although it did have a fake French accent accompanying it. She sat behind him in the cell, ankles crossed, arms folded, black Cuban hat pulled low over her eyes a la John Wayne.

"Ma'am?" he asked, because he wasn't sure how to interpret that sentence. He wasn't even sure if he should try.

"'Monty Python and the Search for the Holy Grail'," DuQaine said, tipping her head back to peer out at hi. "Please tell me you've seen this cinematic masterpiece."

"Sorry, ma'am; I'm not much for cinematic masterpieces." Jason sighed as he turned back around and continued tugging at the bars of the cell; they were loose, but not loose enough to actually capitalize on their structural failings. Looked like "The Great Escape" wouldn't be as easy as he'd hoped.

"Have you seen 'Full Metal Jacket?'" she queried. Jason shot her an incredulous look. What kind of a question was that?

"Oh, of course… sorry, didn't mean to impugn your honor," she said with a hint of a smile. It was a little distracting that his CO was so attractive and Jason handled it the only way he knew how… he pretended she wasn't.

"You're taking this remarkably well, ma'am." Jason said, giving the bars one last tug before letting go and dusting the rust off his hands. The cell featured two chest-level windows in one wall and a heavy wooden door with a bar across the outside. The whole thing looked like a Hollywood movie set for a medieval epic. It was also proving irritatingly difficult to escape from. He was hoping the femur in the corner was for dramatic effect.

"What's that s'posed to mean?" She asked, pushing her hat up with one finger in keeping with the cowboy attitude. The smile was still there, hovering just around the edges of her eyes.

"Nothing, ma'am," He muttered, trying to sound contrite. DuQaine made a face that made her look even less like a commanding officer than usual. Jason started to lower himself to the ground, hoping to take some pressure off his left leg which was probably black and blue from their captor's _gentle_ treatment.

"Do all y'all think I have an anger management problem?" Jason froze, crouched halfway to floor. Sitting seemed like a really bad idea because it offered limited tactical movement and DuQaine was well-versed in close-quarters combat. He'd seen that much when she bopped Sgt. Price in the nose the other day during a sparring session.

"Um, no?" he said, slowly sinking to the dirt floor when she gestured for him to do so. DuQaine snorted, but the smile never left her eyes.

"You're a real lousy liar, Jason," she said, and tugged the hat back down over her face. Jason couldn't help the small sigh of relief that escaped him.

Rescue did come eventually – eight hours later, according to the men's diving watch that DuQaine wore on her wrist – heralded by automatic weapons fire, explosions, and the distinct voice of Dr. Rodney McKay yelling at the top of his lungs that he was blind and 'could they at least warn him next time?' before the wooden door creaked open and Colonel Sheppard smiled down at them.


	9. Chapter 8

_**Taylor- The easy way is always mined**_

"'Ccordin' to the Renatian's, field's been off-limits since they can remember." DuQaine said, scratching the side of her nose where her sunburn was peeling.

And she wasn't the only one scratching.

O'Neil had been rubbing his biceps since they stepped through the Gate and every once in a while, Winchester would shudder and twitch like there was a spot right between his shoulder blades he couldn't quite reach. It served them right for not wearing their shirts (Winchester and O'Neil) and refusing to wear a baseball cap because it wasn't her favorite Cuban hat (DuQaine).

What kind of Marine wore a hat named after a communist country anyway?

"Lemme guess," Danny muttered because his day hadn't had enough explosions in it. "The Ancient thingamajig is on the other side of this field." The field in question was big, at least an acre or two and truth be told, it was kind of hard to tell where the field ended and the forest began, which wasn't a real good thing, considering that the whole area was supposedly MINED.

"Roger," DuQaine affirmed, still scratching although she'd moved onto her shoulders. All she needed was a piece of wheat sticking out of the corner of her mouth and the "Ellie May" look would have been complete. A pair of Daisy Dukes wouldn't have hurt either, but there was fat chance of that, even with her recent change in attitude. DuQaine had been more easygoing lately, and no one could figure out why; Tucker's theory involved her getting laid on a regular basis and from there the conversation would devolve into a discussion of their CO's love life, which no one would ever admit to taking part in.

The rumor mill linked the L.T. to just about everyone on base. The short list was Dr.'s McKay and Zelenka, and the Marines' personal favorite, Teyla. There was also whispers that she and Sheppard were having an affair. Granted, it was easier to believe than all the other alleged pairings, although the Teyla one had potential. Personally, Danny never contemplated his CO's love life too closely… it gave him a headache when he tried.

"I'm gonna fuckin' kill McKay." DuQaine muttered, and Danny seconded the motion, although silently. Bauer offered to toss rocks into the field to locate the mines, but the lieutenant shut him down because the natives were jumpy enough and the last thing they needed was to be chased off the planet by a bunch of paranoid farmers with crossbows and twitchy trigger fingers.

M4L-009 was classified as a potential future trip for Charlie Company.


	10. Chapter 9

_**Bauer- Your bivouac for the night is the spot where you got tired of marching that day**_

The L.T. had collapsed onto her sleeping bag two seconds after they finished setting up the camp and hadn't woken since. Dean was pretty sure she was still alive because every once in a while she'd twitch like someone was running an electric current through her. Since this was how she normally slept, they weren't specifically worried about her having a seizure… at this point they were just using it to determine if she was still breathing.

No one said anything about her taking a shift-watch because after all, she was the one who'd walked into the boobytrap. Nothing like a small tree to the ribcage to ruin your day. She'd complained while Winchester checked her over – her vest had taken the brunt of the blow – but the complaining was less about the injury and more about the paranoia quotient of the Pegasus Galaxy.

They all knew she was playing tough for their benefit and her ego so everyone pretended they didn't see the tears in her eyes during the gentle examination.

"Think we should wake her up?" Dean looked up from his meatloaf MRE and wondered if Taylor actually had a death wish or if he'd just asked the stupid question everyone was thinking but no one was saying… because it was stupid.

Across the fire, Tucker just snorted and shook his head, scooping another spoonful of pasta to shovel into his mouth. As if she knew they were talking about her, DuQaine shifted on her sleeping bag, one foot kicking dangerously close to Winchester's juice pouch. He retrieved it silently and kept eating, leaving O'Neil to answer because it appeared no one else would.

"You wanna risk your life, go right ahead, Taylor." The younger man made a face that said he hadn't really meant it. Dean looked up just in time to lock eyes with Tucker who was trying not laugh.

The rest of the night was spent in relative silence until DuQaine awoke, gasping for air, but insisting she was fine.


	11. Chapter 10

_**Sheppard- If at first you don't succeed, call in an airstrike**_

The five blue dots on the screen represented Team 9 – a.k.a. Lt. DuQaine's team – and the slowly tightening circle of red dots were the Wraith.

John tightened his grip on the Jumper controls, watching the display as intently as if it were a USC playoff game. One of the red dots on the screen flickered and disappeared and John smiled tightly. Team 9 might give the Atlantis command staff conniption fits by wreaking "Skippy-esque" havoc, but they boasted some of the best marksmen on Atlantis, and right now, they were proving it to the Wraith.

Behind John in the Jumper rear compartment of the jumper sat the marines of Team 3 in full tactical gear, armed with everything from flashbangs to first aid kits to lollipops. Ronon, Teyla, and McKay occupied the other seats in the cockpit, and the situation was such that their usual banter was missing.

Another Wraith lifesign flickered and disappeared, and John half-wondered if it was Winchester or Taylor taking the shots because he knew from firing range experience that both men preferred headshots, but then they were arriving and all time for wondering went out the window.

40 minutes, five drones, two Wraith stunner hits, and McKay screaming like a little girl later, the League was safely on board the Jumper and they were headed back to the Gate. O'Neil from DuQaine's team and Meyer from Team 3 were unconscious on the floor in the rear compartment, and DuQaine – along with the Team 3 CO, Lt. Alexander – had claimed two of the cockpit seats, forcing Ronon and McKay into the rear-compartment which was okay because McKay was bitching about being dragged on the mission. John didn't mention that McKay hadn't actually needed to come along in the first place and had in effect volunteered.

"How's the ribs?" he asked because DuQaine had just been released by Medical two days prior after a run-in with an alien booby trap. Ordinarily, he wouldn't have asked because (a) she was a Marine and there was a code of silence when it came to injury, and (b) because she was a woman and that was a whole 'nother ball of wax. Unfortunately, there wasn't a whole helluva lot else to talk about except the recent round of food poisoning in the cafeteria and what was going to be the next feature on movie night.

"Been better, sir." she slouched low in the seat, contorting her body into what looked like a painful position and tucked her head against the back of the chair, balancing her chin on her shoulder. John took the not-so-subtle hint to shut up and went back to staring at the display on the Jumper screen.

Next time he looked over, she was asleep.


	12. Chapter 11

_**Taylor- Whenever you lose contact with the enemy, just look behind you**_

Running track in high school wasn't a whole lot different than running from angry natives armed with pointy spears. In fact, if the Roseburg High track team had been chased by angry spear-holding natives, they might've made it to State more often.

Danny's lungs felt like they were on fire as the team pounded down the road, legs pumping, arms flailing. The village was two klicks from the Gate, and if his estimation was even close to correct, they'd already covered about one and a half of those. They were all running abreast (except for Winchester who'd long since outpaced them at the L.T.'s orders and secured the Gate, although with all the huffing and puffing over the radio it was hard to tell if he'd secured the Gate or been attacked by rabid Chihuahua's) whipping down the road like sprinters, which none of them were even though that was what PT was for.

As they rounded a sharp bend in the road and the Gate complete with an active wormhole came into view, Danny let himself wonder if this was how Colonel Sheppard's team felt when they got chased off other planets. Then he was falling through the wormhole and landing on the marble floor of the Gate room, his shoulder contacting first, followed by his hip and then the rest of his body.

DuQaine fell through two seconds later, landing on top of him, which was okay because under her gear she was soft curves in all the right places, and he would have had to have been dead not to notice that.

Her face was pressed into the side of his neck and her warm breathe tickled his skin as her chest pressed against his with each gasping inhalation that she took. Danny instinctively wrapped a hand around her waist – although what instinct it was, was debatable – and pressed the palm of his hand against the small of her back. Her hands gripped the front of his tac vest tightly and Danny was willing to forgive the discomfort at being unable to take full deep breaths of his own as long as she just stayed there, laying on top of him.

Then Bauer fell through and landed on top of both of them and the moment, such as it was, was ruined.


	13. Chapter 12

_**O'Neil- The weight of your equipment is directly proportional to the amount of time you have to carry it**_

DuQaine leaned in the doorway to the locker room, one shoulder braced against the doorjamb, waiting for the rest of them to get kitted out with a patient expression.

Jason knew it was one that she practiced because this was now the Lieutenant's routine: gear up first and then hurry up and wait for everyone else.

Jason figured it was so she could make sure they kitted out properly and that Winchester didn't try to stuff his I-Pod in his pocket again. They'd all thought they were having auditory hallucinations on P9X-292 until they'd realized Winchester had the volume on his I-Pod turned up loud enough for the rest of them to hear 'Hot for Teacher.'

"Tucker, you lose more stuff than my brother's rug rat," Jason looked up and sure enough, Tucker was patting his pockets, looking confused. Jason tucked the scrap of personal information about his CO away for future reference and went back to lacing his boots.

"I just had my knife. It was in my hand and I was putting some extra chem lights in…" The man trailed off as he eyed the pack on the locker room bench with a suspicious look. Jason rolled his eyes as he finished pulling the laces tight, tying them off in a snug double knot. Tucker would lose his P-90 if it wasn't clipped to the front of his vest and even then, there were no guarantees.

"It's probably at the bottom of your pack." DuQaine said, pushing off the doorjamb and shaking her head so that her blonde ponytail bobbed. "Under all that junk." she added with one of those *officer* looks that she was getting better and better at.

"It's not junk," Tucker said, sounding offended even though DuQaine was probably right.

"Whatever you say, Kellen, but I don't wanna hear you bitch 'bout it bein' too heavy," DuQaine held up her hands in surrender and turned to her next victim.

"It's a desert planet, Bauer. Lose the rain gear."


	14. Chapter 13

_**Bauer- The bursting radius of a hand grenade is always one foot greater than your jumping radius**_

In Basic, Dean had trained with frag/concussion/flashbang grenades. There was one simple rule: When the pin is pulled, Mr. Grenade is not your friend.

At the SGC, he'd trained with the Goa'uld version of a flashbang, which pretty much just flashed. Those didn't come with rules because there was no pin to pull, just a complicated series of patterns to press and why bother to press buttons when you could just pull a pin and throw?

On Atlantis, he'd been introduced to Wraith grenades, which looked like big Easter eggs… Easter eggs that exploded, ones that the Wraith had no qualms about throwing… a lot.

Dean grabbed the bottom of DuQaine's vest, yanking her into the cover of a small copse as another grenade exploded not more than 20 feet from them. The debris that pelted them smelled sweet and he was willing to bet one of the Tygun peach trees had just died a mulchy death. Winchester was dug in behind a rock outcropping a few feet away, arms over his head as detritus continued to rain down. The rest of the team had made it to the DHD about a hundred yards away, but DuQaine had tripped, and Dean had stopped to help and Winchester had been bringing up the rear and they'd all gotten stuck, pinned down by the Wraith version of carpet bombing.

Their radios were useless because with all the explosions, they were essentially deaf, reduced to communicating with hand-signals that were difficult to see through the smoke. Winchester was making a 'stay' motion at them when Dean looked up again, satisfied DuQaine was still alive. He was peeking over the edge of his rock and Dean nodded, more to himself than anything, his grip tightening on his handgun. He'd lost his P-90 after his last Superman dive and was relying on considerably less fire power now.

Another explosion, closer this time and the debris cloud grew even bigger, obscuring Winchester. Dean felt a piece of flying rock slice his cheek and instinctively pressed a hand against the cut, feeling the warm blood trickle over his fingers.

The smoke cloud parted to reveal the crouched figure of Winchester creeping towards them, head low, weapon cradled against his chest. He was shouting something Dean couldn't hear because his ears were ringing from the last blast, but the look on Winchester's face was more than enough to galvanize him into action. Dean turned, pushing DuQaine in front of him, both stumbling as they tried to move faster than their cramped legs would allow. The next explosion was so close he felt the heat burn the back of his neck and then the concussion wave pitched him forward, his head struck something, and he was unconscious.


	15. Chapter 14

_**Tucker- The cavalry doesn't always come to the rescue**_

Automatic weapons fire rat-a-tat-tatted across the clearing, and the ground in front of the trench was suddenly alive, dancing as the bullets ripped through it. Kellen had long since ducked for cover, keeping his head down and eyes closed because the last thing he needed was to fucking blind himself.

They were already down three team members due to a Wraith confrontation involving _Easter Eggs_ as Winchester had dubbed them, forcing them to borrow SSgt. Viars and Sgt. Ricci to flesh out their ranks. Dr. Keller had claimed DuQaine, Bauer, and Winchester would be released from the Infirmary by this afternoon, but she'd promised that yesterday and then the stupid shits (including DuQaine) had tried to escape on their own, and Keller had bumped their release date back, partly as punishment, well, no… mostly as punishment because Keller was not above torturing Marines to amuse herself.

"Where the hell's that cover fire, Tucker!" the question was shouted across his radio. Sheppard must have been desperate to broadcast on an un-secure channel. Another wave of weapons fire deafened Kellen for a moment.

"Sorry, sir! They've got us pinned!" He shouted back a few seconds later when he could hear again. The last time Kellen had seen Sheppard, he'd been taking cover behind a small wall, covered in dirt and what may or may not have been blood. McKay, Teyla, and Ronon were nowhere in sight, and Kellen tried not to assume the worst.

"Okay, I'm falling back, Tucker. We'll try again in a little while." And the radio connection went dead. Kellen cautiously raised his head and peered through the dust filled trench.

Taylor and O'Neil were sitting up, faces pressed against their knees, to avoid the flying debris. For a second, O'Neil looked up and caught his gaze. Kellen recognized the pained look on the other man's face. They were supposed to be the backup, and they were failing miserably.

They were helpless and if that wasn't the most fucking god awful feeling, he didn't know what was.


	16. Chapter 15

**Winchester- The quarter master has two sizes: too small or too large**

Jack told himself to stop staring.

He really needed to stop staring.

He really, really, really needed to stop staring because she was his CO and as such was off-limits.

He told himself to stop staring because she could kick his ass to Earth and back, but that didn't work either.

The reason neither of these strategies worked was simple: the rational part of his brain had shut down and was now sitting on the front stoop of his brain, drinking beer and doing that "nudge-nudge, wink-wink" routine with the horny part of his brain.

The shirt was…

Snug.

Fitted.

Body-hugging.

Skin-tight.

Jack ran out of non-dirty synonyms after that, which was good because his brain needed all its computing power just to keep his tongue in his mouth.

DuQaine sat on a corner of Lt. Celluci's desk, reading something off her computer. Celluci's look of concentration was intense, although Jack bet it was from keeping his eyes above chest level and not because of the complexity of off-world mission schedules.

Usually DuQaine was, well, basically, the woman was a prude. She wore her shirts a size too big, and sometimes Jack thought she borrowed her jackets from Ronon, they were so large. The few times that he'd seen her in civvies, she'd been wearing jeans and a UFC sweatshirt, nothing that gave any hint whatsoever to the model-esque body that she'd clearly been hiding.

The black tank-top – coupled with the black BDU pants that she wore – were straight out of a teenage boy's fantasy of what a hot sexy Marine looked like. It was hot today so there was a faint sheen of sweat across her exposed skin and with her blonde hair gleaming in the sunshine and the way she licked her lips…

"You're drooling, Winchester." Tucker's voice was right in his ear, and Jack jerked in surprise, pulling away. The senior NCO laughed as Jack frantically raised a hand to his mouth to see if the allegation was true and scowled when he found out it wasn't.

"Shut up." Jack muttered, feeling the flush creeping across his face. Tucker gave him a smug smile, winked, and moved off toward their CO. After being caught, Jack tried his damndest to keep his attention on the AAR in front of him, but despite his best efforts, his eyes kept drifting.

Ten minutes later, he was staring again, half-zoned out, when he became aware that the attention was being returned. Slowly, he focused his eyes. DuQaine was watching him with a 'what the fuck are you looking at' expression.

Jack couldn't make eye-contact with her for the rest of the day.


	17. Chapter 16

_**DuQaine- Odd objects attract fire. YOU are odd.**_

_EUREKA: A brilliant idea from the twisted mind of Lt. Colonel John Sheppard._

_Sheppard: Why don't we turn Ronon loose in Atlantis and have the Marines hunt him down? It'll be like hide'n'seek, only more violent, and I can watch it from the safety of an undisclosed location where I'm not in harm's way._

_Everyone who felt like sucking up that day: Great idea, sir! Wish I'd thought of it._

_Everyone else with common sense: Aw, shit. I knew that fuckin' flyboy hated the Corps._

Cherry would have cursed aloud to go along with her bitchy inner dialogue, but Ronon had ears like a bat and the room they were in amplified every little sound she was trying _not_ to make.

Luckily, Taylor was paired with Tucker because between the two of them, they were loud enough to wake the dead, even when they were trying to be quiet.

Winchester and Bauer were supposed to be clearing the staircase of the spire, but there had been a significant amount of yelling earlier and she assumed Ronon had struck. Since they weren't wearing radios, she didn't know how Taylor and Tucker were fairing.

A hand suddenly grabbed the back of her tac-vest, pulling her back against a solid body, and she almost screamed before O'Neil clamped a hand over her mouth and spun her around. His Wraith stunner was cradled in one arm as he slowly removed the hand from her mouth. She glared at him even as he ignored the look and brought a hand up, tapping his ear. Cherry got the hint: O'Neil had heard movement. She mouthed 'Ronon?' and he gave her a 'who else would it be' look that almost made her feel like an idiot… almost.

Hand gestures were learned early on in the Corps whether to make fun of a DI behind his back or to communicate with one of the numerous non-English speakers Marines ran into during the span of their careers. Cherry's team claimed to have developed their own, but as far as she could tell, it was just the guys flipping each other the bird and then claiming it was a secret code.

O'Neil motioned to split up, separating from her to move around the stack of crates and corner their quarry. She nodded and moved to the left. O'Neil melted into the shadows in a way too freakish to contemplate because the only one person she knew moved like that and that was the guy they were hunting.

Maybe Ronon gave lessons.

Cherry held her breath as she crept forward, crouching low because Ronon was a fan of aerial attacks. She'd opted for a Wraith stunner in the form of a handgun, holding it double-handed at waist level. There was a sudden clatter of noise from somewhere to her right, and she spun, drawing down on a target that wasn't there. She was guessing the clatter had been O'Neil biting the dust, probably at the business end of Ronon's special weapon – which no matter how many times he pronounced it for her she could never remember the name for.

Something moved in the shadows to her right a little too closely for comfort, and she kicked out instinctively, the toe of her boot connecting with something solid. The pained grunt that followed was an indication she'd done damage and Cherry swung her stunner in that direction, firing at what she thought was Ronon's bulk in the darkness. Then there was a flash of red light…

When she woke up next to Tucker on the floor 30 minutes later, nursing a killer headache, Cherry knew she'd failed. Of course, Sheppard didn't look at it that way and stepped aside to show her Ronon being treated by one of the corpsmen. There were several pats on the back and congratulations, but her head hurt too bad to focus on them.

She wasn't sure if it was a compliment when Ronon stopped by her office the next day to show her the multi-colored bruise on his shin or a not-so-subtle hint to watch her back.


	18. Chapter 17

_**Winchester- Whenever you drop your equipment in a firefight, your ammo and grenades always fall farthest away and your canteen always lands at your feet**_

The booby-trap was crappy as far as booby-traps went, but it was a booby-trap all the same which was why he blindly walked into it.

Taylor was on point and the tripwire caught him right across the shins. Jack had been a few feet behind him with the rest of the team about 50 yards back, so the explosion threw Taylor into him, slamming both of them to the ground. The second explosion came at least ten feet to the right, pelting them with dirt and debris.

Lying on his back with Taylor sprawled across his lower body, Jack coughed and rolled his head side to side, struggling to stay conscious. The smell of explosives tainted the air. He tried not to breathe in the haze of smoke that surrounded him, but his lungs were screaming for oxygen and he gave in, taking a large lungful and hacking and coughing all over again.

Somewhere nearby he could hear yelling, but he couldn't make out the words, probably because his ears were ringing like a couple of church bells. Sitting up seemed like an awful lot of work, so he stayed on his back, staring at the green canopy above him. Everything hurt, and it sucked because there wasn't anything he could do about it because his legs were numb.

DuQaine's face floated into view above his and then hands grabbed him, pulling him backwards. This time the pain started in earnest and he mercifully blacked out.

When Jack came to, he was in a hospital bed with crisp white sheets and an IV drip. DuQaine was asleep in the chair next to the bed, looking freshly scrubbed and wearing a jacket that he could tell wasn't hers. As if CO ESP told her that he was awake, she opened her eyes, blinked, and then smiled sleepily. Jack tried to ask one of the dozen questions on the tip of his tongue, but his mouth was so dry all he could manage was a sound like he was hacking up a hairball. DuQaine reached for the cup of water on the bedside table. Her blond hair hung loose, making her look painfully young.

"Taylor's fine, broke a finger. The rest of us are fine, but I'm afraid Lola didn't make it." Jack felt his eyebrows furrow as she leaned forward and put the straw between his lips. The cool water dribbled down the back of his throat eased the cotton feeling, but not his confusion.

"Who's Lola?" he asked, voice raspy from smoke inhalation and disuse.

"Lola, your P-90; I named her so this whole incident would seem more tragic than it really is." DuQaine said with a shrug, giving him an 'I know I'm crazy, humor me' look. Jack shakily took the cup from her and sipped some more water because it was safer than commenting right then.

"On the other hand, Oscar was completely unscathed." She said brightly, folding one leg underneath her as she sat back down.

"Who?" he asked, already dreading the answer.

"She named your canteen." A new voice joined the conversation as Major Lorne pulled the privacy curtain back. "Just go with it. She's insane."

Jack closed his eyes, not out of pain, but so DuQaine wouldn't see him roll them.


	19. Chapter 18

_**O'Neil- The stupider the leader, the more important the mission he's ordered to carry out**_

Natural Selection had been created with Captain Miles Banks in mind.

The man was a walking "Perils of Pauline" with a little bit of "I Love Lucy" thrown in and a dash of "The Three Stooges" for good measure. No one was quite sure how he'd made it to captain, but the theories started with "father is a four-star general" and progressed all the way to "just plain fucking lucky."

"Cherry!" everyone usually called the L.T. by her last name or her nickname if you were approved to do so – which Banks clearly wasn't because Jason could count on one hand the number of people who could do so and continue to breathe – so he wasn't sure what exactly Banks was trying to prove. DuQaine had a mouthful of lasagna when Banks announced his arrival and thanks to the informal greeting, she choked, forcing Winchester to pound her on the back. Banks seemed to take the choking as an invitation to sit down and he did, squeezing in across the table between Taylor and Bauer, pushing both men to the side as the lieutenant spit half-chewed lasagna back onto her plate.

"I'd like to talk to you about our mission tomorrow," Banks said, folding his arms on the table and leaning forward. DuQaine coughed some more and blinked at the man across from her.

"Now, I know it's a simple meet and greet, but I've heard these things can go sideways really quickly out here." Banks was a REMF. Doing logistical work at the SGC apparently translated into being able to lead a team in another galaxy. Either that or the SGC was desperate to get rid of him and the Pegasus galaxy was the furthest they could send him without kicking him out of the Corps.

"We've made contact with the Patlorian's before, sir. They're real nice." Tucker chimed in because DuQaine was still red from trying to inhale her dinner.

"Oh," Banks looked disappointed there might not be an exfil under fire. Jason caught a glimpse of the expression on DuQaine's face and tried not to laugh. She was staring at Banks with an expression akin to shock and horror.

"Well, I think we should compare notes just in case. Lieutenant, I want you to come by my office later and we'll make a more detailed contingency plan." Banks patted the table, smiled and rose, satisfied his order had been delivered and walked away, one hand hooked into the side of his gun-belt like an old fashioned gunslinger in a western.

"You have fun with that, ma'am." Tucker said, helping himself to the non-regurgitated food on DuQaine's tray. With a pained sounding groan, the lieutenant pushed her food away and dropped her head onto the tabletop with a 'thunk'.


	20. Chapter 19

_**DuQaine- Try to look unimportant; they may be low on ammo**_

"I'm gonna take a shot in the dark here, pardon the pun, and assume the leader's the one with the big foofy hat." Cherry muttered, eye pressed against the scope of the sniper rifle.

"Foofy?" Tucker's voice was half amused and half horrified, and if they weren't busy being covert, Cherry would have rolled over and put an elbow in his kidneys.

"It's lime green, there're 40,000 feathers, and I'm pretty sure that's a dead animal on the brim. Got a better name?" Cherry asked, rolling her shoulders in an attempt to stretch out the knot that had formed between them. Lying on the ground in a hide wasn't exactly conducive to chiropractic comfort. She was gonna be sore for the next few days.

"I dunno. I sort of like foofy." Taylor added his opinion.

"You would, dude." Bauer answered, prompting Taylor to defend his honor with a few choice words. O'Neil and Taylor were 20 feet to her left, gun sights also trained on the celebration below.

Colonel Sheppard's team was in the small valley below along with Major Lorne's team, playing the part of honored VIP's. Their new _allies_ were people who up until four days ago had been less ally-like and more enemy-like. The sudden personality shift was something that concerned the military community of Atlantis, which was why her team was one of two providing sniper cover. Sheppard said they were there just in case things went egg-shaped. Cherry figured they were there just in case things got too boring, and he needed to have someone shot to garner a little excitement.

"Scintillating conversation, DuQaine," This came from Capt. Malone of Team 5, the other team playing watchdog. Malone seemed to like her, but Cherry wasn't sure if it was actual fondness or if she just amused him enough that he kept her around as entertainment.

"We try, sir." Winchester chimed in. "Hey, I lost my bead on Lorne. He's moving to McKenzie's zone." Each sniper had a zone to cover, allowing the snipers to remain stationary while people walked through their areas.

"He's talking to Teyla behind the chick with the big…" Sgt. Keith McKenzie trailed off in his comment, and Cherry tried hard not to smile. "Um… headdress,"

"Nice save, moron. No one noticed that Freudian slip." Malone chided, but everyone knew he didn't mean it.

Cherry's zone currently held McKay, which was a good thing because while she was a good shot with a P-90 or a handgun, sharpshooting wasn't her strong suit. Luckily, McKay had been distracted by the… charms of one of the native women and had been seated next to her for the last hour, making Cherry's job significantly easier.

"Foofy hat dude's moving. Looks like he's headed for Sheppard again," The village leader had been trying to talk to Sheppard and Lorne, separately and together for the last two hours, but both men had managed to avoid the overly attentive man so far.

"Quick question, ma'am," This was from Bauer who clearly was covering Sheppard. "Say hypothetically Colonel Sheppard just noticed Foofy Hat Dude moving in his direction, and he's giving me the 'fire' signal. What do I do?"


	21. Chapter 20

_**Sheppard- A sucking chest wound is nature's way of telling you to slow down**_

One of the nurses told him Cherry had stayed by his bed until Keller punted her out of the Infirmary, ordering her to get some sleep. Since she was now in the doorway to his room, scrubbing a hand across her face, John was willing to bet she'd disobeyed that order.

"If Keller catches you…" He left the rest of the sentence hanging because he didn't really want her to leave. It was boring all by himself, staring at the ceiling and wishing for his laptop or I-pod or even a deck of cards to break the monotony.

"Yeah, yeah…" Cherry drawled, dropping into the chair next to the bed with the exaggerated slowness of someone who is injured and trying to act like she isn't.

John took a break from staring at the ceiling to assess her. Black eye, cut above her left eyebrow, bruises in the shape of fingers on her arm; he knew there were other marks he couldn't see, marks like the formerly dislocated left shoulder, and the row of stitches that ran up her left thigh. The Hortik's had done a real number on her… right in front of him.

Most cultures they ran across in the Pegasus galaxy didn't have a problem with women in a command position; Teyla was a living breathing example of that. Unfortunately, the Hortik's had a different point of view on the subject. Of course, they'd had a problem with _him_ being in a command position too as evidenced by the gaping hole in his chest.

"Done your debrief yet?" it was semi-safe ground, bordering on bad because it would lead to questions neither of them wanted to ask or answer. Cherry gave him a suspicious look out of her good eye before nodding.

"I hate Heightmeyer." she said, staring at the floor. John grimaced, knowing his turn was coming. Cherry gave him a 'been there, done that, your turn to deal with the bullshit' look and pushed to her feet. John watched as she nudged the chair out of her way and carefully climbed onto the bed next to his. Stretching out on top of the blankets, she folded her arms across her stomach, staring at the ceiling.

"How's your team?" John asked once she was settled. Cherry rolled her head to the side and closed her eyes, a smile hovering around the corners of her mouth.

"Tucker says I'm not allowed to go anywhere with you ever again unless I have an entire platoon with me." She murmured.

"McKay said the same thing about you." John replied.

Cherry smiled.


	22. Chapter 21

_**Taylor- If enough data is collected, a board of inquiry can prove anything**_

Danny slouched in the desk chair, staring at the blank AAR on his laptop, trying to think of some other way to say 'me and my CO got drunk and fucked' in a way that didn't make the situation sound as bad as it really was.

Because it _was_ bad. Really, really, really fucking bad.

Two hours in the conference room in self-imposed exile, and he had… nothing.

With a groan, Danny pushed his laptop away, dropping his head onto the table. There was no possible way to write an AAR that didn't read like a bad porno, one that started with the aliens requiring a drinking ceremony to initiate friendship and ending with waking up to find himself tangled up with his CO, who he'd discovered had a fair number of tattoos in interesting places.

"Problem, Sergeant?" Danny leaped up so fast he banged his knee on the underside of the table. Major Lorne lounged against the wall just inside the conference room, arms folded, smile at the corners of his mouth. Lorne gestured for him to return to his seat, and Danny complied, surreptitiously rubbing his sore knee.

"Uh, no, sir, no problem," trying to explain the whole situation to Lorne was even less appealing than trying to explain in his AAR.

"If it makes you feel any better, DuQaine's isn't doing any better." It didn't, but at least the man was trying. Danny could think of at least a dozen situations where Colonel Sheppard had been forced to write similar AAR's, although those never involved members of the command staff, usually just gorgeous Ancients or alien princesses… not that DuQaine wasn't gorgeous.

"Yes, sir," Danny muttered. While the situation wasn't exactly great for him, it was twenty times worse for DuQaine who was a _female officer_ and this was going to raise questions that didn't need to be asked.

"Well, then I leave you with this bit of advice." Danny met Lorne's gaze because damn if he was going to pass up on free advice. "Just write what happened. All of it," this was said with a pointed look. "And they won't make such a big deal." And with those words of wisdom, Lorne was gone. Danny went back to staring at his computer.

An hour later, he'd managed to write everything up until the incident in question, and he'd developed a headache right smack dab between his eyes. Someone cleared their throat and he looked up, expecting Lorne again, wanting his AAR.

Danny's excuse died on his lips when he saw the visitor was DuQaine, hands in her pockets, hair loose, face flushed. She looked young, more like a high schooler than his CO. It never ceased to amaze Danny that the L-T was seven years younger than he was.

"Ma'am," Danny pushed to his feet, raising his hand in a salute. DuQaine waved the gesture away, chewing on her bottom lip. He supposed she was weirded out, being saluted by a man who'd slept with her. Of course, he was weirded out too, saluting a woman with a character from the Hundred Acre Wood tattooed on her thigh.

"Yeah, so this is gonna be weird." She said, drumming her fingers on her biceps. It took Danny a second to focus on her words because he was having a flashback of those fingers doing something other than drumming.

"Permission to speak freely, ma'am?" he asked, leaning against the table. DuQaine rolled her eyes, but nodded.

"We slept together. We were drunk and we're gonna have to get over it if our team's ever gonna function normally." DuQaine squirmed, and Danny knew he wasn't the only one who _vividly_ remembered exactly what happened that night.

The speech left an awkward silence that hung over them leaving him to stare at his computer and her to stare at her boots. Finally, she cleared her throat. Danny looked up, finding her watching him through her eyelashes.

"In case you're wondering… I got the Tigger the last time I was that drunk."


	23. Chapter 22

_**DuQaine- The worse the weather, the longer you have to be out in it**_

"So… how 'bout them Yankees?" Cherry rolled her eyes in O'Neil's general direction, barely managing to discern his outline through the downpour that had been soaking them for the last hour.

"I hate the Yankees." She muttered and went back to staring through the rain that made the whole concept of watch pretty much pointless.

"Um… how 'bout the Patriots?" O'Neil tried again, his voice tiny over the radio and the howl of the wind.

"Oh for two, Jason; try again." She smiled around her words, knowing what he was trying to do.

Things had been strained in the team since the "incident" between her and Taylor. All right, not so much strained as downright fucking awkward. It was next to impossible to miss the looks her team shot her every other second. She probably should have been insulted at the fact that they looked like they were expecting her to jump any of them at any moment, but she couldn't work up the strength to care.

"Um, Miami Heat?" he tried. Cherry snorted because only O'Neil would have the bad luck to pick the teams she hated.

"Do you even watch sports or are you pulling random teams out of your ass?" She asked. Radio silence reigned, and she gave a sigh of relief even as rain dribbled down the back of her collar.

Ten minutes later…

"What about the Celtics?"


	24. Chapter 23

_**Winchester- Incoming fire has the right of way**_

Jack danced backwards just before Bauer hurled again and his teammate's dinner splattered the forest floor with a myriad of sickening colors.

Food poisoning on alien planets was, sadly, a common occurrence among off-world teams because not everyone had Ronon's – or Dr. McKay's – cast-iron stomach. Of course, in order to keep from insulting their hosts, more often than not, someone ended up getting sick… for the good of the mission, of course.

"I think he's empty." Tucker offered up his completely unhelpful commentary from the other side of the clearing, which was incidentally enough, vomit free. The rest of the team was loosely grouped around the XO except for DuQaine who was crouched next to Bauer, one hand on the back of his neck and the other on the shoulder to keep him from falling face first into his own vomit.

"Yeah and I think you're an idiot." The lieutenant said, shooting the comment across the clearing with a matching venomous look that said 'shut up'. Tucker made a face, but remained silent. DuQaine turned back to the man who was pretty much relying on her to keep him upright.

"Feelin' better, Bauer?" she asked, removing her hand from the back of the man's neck and putting it to his forehead, although, other than offering comfort, Jack didn't have any clue what she was trying to do.

"I don't have a fever, ma'am." Bauer croaked and DuQaine rolled her eyes. Jack watched the exchange with a half-smile. DuQaine's maternal instincts might have been buried so deep it would take a controlled demolition to un-earth them, but every now and then, she did something that suggested there was a woman under the cammies.

"Shut up and appreciate the gesture," She said, shooting a glare at the rest of the team who was whooping loud enough to startle the birds around them into flight.

As if to add to the cacophony, Bauer hurled again, only this time, Jack's boots didn't retreat fast enough.


	25. Chapter 24

_**Taylor- The enemy never watches until you make a mistake**_

"And furthermore…" Danny could actually _feel_ his eyes glaze over as Dr. Dakin continued his lecture on general Marine carelessness for ancient alien cultures.

Behind Dakin, the rest of the archaeological expedition was shooting him somewhat timid glares, rallying behind the lecturing doctor. Standing _behind_ the scientists, his team was in stitches, trying desperately to keep the laughter from escaping and thusly landing themselves in the same boat.

DuQaine had her face in her hands, which Danny had learned meant she was trying to maintain some semblance of leadership and failing miserably. She looked out from between her fingers and caught his gaze. He arched an eyebrow and she was off again in a fresh wave of silent giggles.

"That could have been an item of indescribable worth and you tossed it aside like trash." Danny let his eyes track over to the "item of indescribable worth". In his opinion, it looked like trash, but he didn't say this out loud because Dakin was so worked up, Danny thought he might actually stroke out.

"Well, Sergeant?" Danny tuned back in to find Dakin glaring at him, hands on hips in what probably amounted to an intimidating pose in the Archaeological Division. Yeah, well, Danny was about as intimidated as… well, nothing.

"Well, what?" Danny asked because there was a 40 percent chance DuQaine wouldn't call him on it because (a) she didn't like the egg-heads and (b) they'd slept together, and while he didn't want to hold that last part over her head, it was blatantly there and a Marine used all the tools he had at his disposal.

"Have you seen the error of your ways?" Dr. Heindrich piped up from the group of scientists, her faint accent coloring her words. Danny rolled his eyes because he'd be damned if was going to let the high school AV club push him around.

"It was a rock, dude." He said and Dakin's head all but exploded.

"You-you-you militant Neanderthal!" raving in some European language, the man turned on his heel and stomped off towards the ruins the scientists had been exploring before Danny had made the mistake of clearing a place to sit. The rest of the scientists trailed after their leader, looking confused as if they'd been expecting an on-bended knee apology. With a shrug, Danny turned back to his team who didn't even bother to hide the laughter now.

"If McKay… comes… storming into my office… I'm blaming… you!" DuQaine managed to gasp out between bursts of laughter. Danny rolled his eyes and sat back down, making extra sure to kick the 'trash' even further out of his way.

So much for 'never leave a man behind'.


	26. Chapter 25

_**Winchester- All-weather close-air support doesn't work in bad weather**_

"Yeah, we're not going anywhere for a while." Sheppard said, peering out through the jumper windshield. Sitting in the co-pilot chair, Jack felt like he'd done something terribly wrong to someone with great cosmic control. What was supposed to have been a simple flying lesson had turned into being trapped on the mainland in the middle of a rainstorm. The current situation was number three on Jack's list of 'Things to Never Do' right behind 'have lunch with a Wraith,' and 'get married'.

"You're really calm about this, sir." Jack said, because ordinarily Sheppard would have been less than thrilled to be trapped. The colonel made some adjustments to the control panel in front of him and then turned to face Jack.

"Well, I was supposed to be with McKay in a lab right now going over unknown boxes of Ancient tech. Let's just say this is preferable." Sheppard said, slouching back in his chair and giving him a crooked grin.

"When you put it that way, sir," Jack said, following his CO's example and relaxing. Looking at the seats in a puddle Jumper, people usually assumed that they were uncomfortable when in reality Jack preferred them to the chairs in AMO. Jumper chairs formed around your body and gave just enough so when you were piloting a Jumper, you didn't feel hemmed in.

A comfortable silence filled the cabin and Jack actually felt his eyes start to droop as rain battered the Jumper. He was starting to doze off when Sheppard cleared his throat. Instantly, Jack jerked to attention, sitting straight up.

"At ease, Sergeant," The other man said with an arched eyebrow. Feeling his face flushing, Jack settled back in his chair, but as comfortably this time.

"Just wanted to ask you a question," The colonel said with a smile that was so self-deprecating Jack had a feeling the question was an awkward one. Considering the latest bout of rumors circulating Atlantis involving Sheppard and DuQaine, there was a very good chance this Q&A involved his CO.

"Okay, sir," Jack sat up again because if this went cock-eyed, it would be easier to brush the whole scene off as a subordinate/CO thing as opposed to just two guys talking about a girl.

"Is…," Sheppard trailed off, forehead wrinkling as if trying to figure out how to pose the question. "Lt. DuQaine… seeing anyone?" considering the flush coloring the man's face, Jack was surprised he'd even managed to work up the courage to answer the question.

"Not that I know of, sir," Jack really wanted to expound on his answer, but his CO's love life wasn't really any of his business. Besides, considering what happened with Taylor, Jack wasn't sure if the woman even wanted to hold hands with a man ever again.

"Okay," Sheppard said, looking oddly relieved. "I'll tell him, then," Although, the last part sounded more like it was to himself.

"Sir?" Jack couldn't help but question the strange remark. Sheppard looked over at him and shrugged.

"I have a… _friend _who's been bugging me to find out if DuQaine's single." Sheppard said with another shrug. Jack felt his mouth drop open. After a few seconds, he managed to retain enough sense to remember that he was in the presence of an officer and snapped his jaw closed.

"Yes, sir," and Jack was totally willing to just leave it at that, but Sheppard clearly wasn't.

"No curiosity about who this _mysterious admirer _is, Lieutenant?" Sheppard's tone was teasing.

"No, sir; I can honestly say I have no interest." And he wasn't lying.

"Even if I told you that it was a _close _friend?" for some reason, a mental image of Dr. McKay popped into Jack's head and without warning, he started snickering. It was a few chuckles at first that deteriorated into hysterical laughter that took him almost a half hour to recover from.

Luckily, Colonel Sheppard didn't seem offended.


	27. Chapter 26

_**DuQaine- If you find yourself in front of your platoon, they know something you don't**_

Her head hurt, her back hurt, her feet were throbbing from walking all over the Phierloan countryside in dress heels, and her right shin was turning a lovely shade of blackish blue from a mutant toddler with an attitude problem.

Cherry managed to make it two steps into her room before she _had _to kick off her shoes, sending them flying across the room. Muttering under her breathe about vast conspiracies, Cherry limped towards the bed, feeling every cobblestone and pothole with each step.

_*TING* _

Halfway to the bed, Cherry paused, three buttons already un-done on her shirt. The door chimed again. Tempted to ignore it, the obligatory pull of command latched on and she turned back around. Buttoning her shirt back up, she rolled her shoulders, took a deep breath, and waved her hand across the panel by the door.

It slid open, revealing Lorne, leaning against the doorjamb, arms folded, ankles crossed.

"I'm not talking to you." She said, folding her own arms across her chest and trying not to look as pissed as she felt.

"You're doing a spectacular job." Lorne said, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Cherry started to reach out to hit the panel to close the door in his face, but another voice halted her motion.

"Oh, come on, Lieutenant. Didn't you have a good day?" And Fitzroy stepped into view. Now that he'd moved, she could see Blane and Celucci, both wearing huge grins.

"Well if good day means dodging Chief Grabby Hands, eating disgusting food, and walking all over the planet in three inch heels, then yes. I had a fabulous day." She snarled. Celucci cracked first, one loose snort turning into a chuckle that turned into a guffaw then a full on belly laugh. Lorne went second, rapidly followed by Blane and Fitzroy. Cherry growled under her breath and took a step back, letting the door shut on the hysterically laughing men.

With clumsy fingers, she began to undress again, discarding clothing in a trail from the door to her bed, upon which she collapsed, now clad only in her underwear. She lay there for almost fifteen minutes, debating between a shower or just going straight to bed when her doorbell chimed again.

With a groan, she levered herself up off the bed and grabbed her robe off the desk chair on the way to the door. Sliding into the short dressing gown, she cinched the belt around her waist and then slid her hand over the door panel.

The sight that greeted her was a truly contrite one, complete with a king-size peanut butter Twix by way of a peace offering. Cherry couldn't help but smile.

"Okay, maybe I'll talk to you."


	28. Chapter 27

_**Winchester- If you're short on everything but the enemy, then you're in a combat zone**_

"So, I told her it wasn't gonna work. Who leaves forty voicemails just because you didn't IM her?"

As usual, O'Neil was having girl trouble and as usual, Jack was listening to him bitch about it or at least he would be if he wasn't in paranoia mode, watching every doorway and dark corner that someone could pounce from.

It wasn't O'Neil's fault that he looked like a Hollywood hunk and it also wasn't his fault that he was so charming that women fell all over themselves trying to get his attention. Come to think of it, nothing was ever O'Neil's fault. He had the luck of the Irish, despite being born and raised in Oregon.

Sometimes Jack wished his life was as simple as O'Neil's. 'Wake up, shoot something, woo the new archaeologist over dinner, quickie, go to sleep'. No, Jack's problems tended to go 'wake up, get shot _at_, duck the over-affectionate attentions of the freaky blonde in Bio-Engineering, no quickie, stare at the ceiling wondering why he can't attract normal women until he falls asleep'.

"Yo, Winchester," the large hand snapping in front of his face jerked him back to reality, and Jack scowled, batting at it because it was blocking his range of vision, and if there was an attack, he preferred to see it coming.

"I'm listening. You're having girl problems. Again," Jack muttered, stepping around one of the empty planters that were placed at inconvenient intervals all over the city. O'Neil shrugged, looking nonchalant.

"We can't all be monks, dude." Was his reply and Jack wondered if DuQaine would notice if O'Neil suddenly disappeared. Probably, but the real question was, would she care?

"I'm not a monk." He muttered, stepping around another planter. If an attack did happen, the planters were seriously going to interfere with his plan, which involved a hasty about-face and retreat to parts unspecified.

"What about that one chick? The one from Engineering?" O'Neil didn't seem to notice his question caused a very physical reaction in Jack, namely a violent shudder and a kick-in of the gag reflex.

"Look, O'Neil, just because…" the burst of feminine laughter from around the corner sent Jack frantically leaping through the nearest door in hopes of an escape. The supply closet was barely big enough for the overabundance of mops that resided within it, let alone a 6'3, 210 pound Marine, but Jack made it work, crushing cleaning supplies so the door could close. Maybe it wasn't her. Maybe it was DuQaine or Colonel Carter. Yeah, and maybe if he drank the bleach on the shelf over there, he wouldn't have to deal with this problem.

The voices died away, and Jack exhaled loudly. He hit the door panel and it slid open, spilling him and a collection of mops and buckets onto the floor.

"Dude, I'm probably gonna regret asking this, but… what the fuck?" Struggling with a broom that was trying to molest him, Jack ignored O'Neil. A quick twist and the tool went skittering away, sliding across the floor and banging into one of the built-in planters.

"I don't want to talk about it." He said, pushing away the bucket in his lap and glaring at his teammate. O'Neil shrugged and made 'yeah, sure' noises, but Jack noticed the man kept a close eye on him for the rest of the night. He went along with it because in case of an ambush, it's always better to have the cavalry already with you.


	29. Chapter 28

_**Taylor- If your attack is going really well, it's an ambush**_

Danny didn't see the second stick coming because he was still trying to block the first one. The second stick impacted his ribs and next thing he knew, he was gasping for air on the floor.

"You should've seen that coming." Ronon said, leaning over him with a bored expression. Danny wondered what would happen if he rammed his sticks into the man's family jewels. A hint of a smile tugged at the corners of the larger man's mouth as if he knew Danny's train of thought.

"Try again." Ronon said, straightening and holding out a hand. Danny accepted it and let the larger man pull him to his feet without even a glimmer of effort. Danny wasn't a little guy, but he looked like a twig compared to Ronon. Then again, just about everyone looked like a twig compared to Ronon. The man's biceps alone were the size of Danny's head.

"Block!" Danny swung his stick up, but it was like trying to use saran wrap to stop a train and sooner rather than later, he was on the floor again. Ronon leaned over him, same expression on his face.

"You _are_ trying, right?" The Satedan said, arching an eyebrow. Danny muttered something under his breath about the man's lineage and scrambled back to his feet. Four more trips to the floor, a few cracks across the knuckles and one solid impact to his shin later, the sparring session was over, and Danny was sprawled on the floor, panting.

Someone nudged his foot and he managed to pry his eyelids open to find DuQaine standing there, arms folded and a big smile on her face.

" 'Oh, yes, ma'am. Sparrin' with Ronon? No big deal. I used to work out with Teal'c. I can handle it'." Danny cringed as his earlier words were thrown back in his face. Someone else snickered and Danny sighed as Tucker stepped into view.

"Lookin' a little beat up there, Taylor," Tucker drawled in his Texas accent. DuQaine nudged him in the arm and the two of them laughed like it was their own private joke. Danny groaned and let his head drop back onto the floor with a thunk.


	30. Chapter 29

_**O'Neill- The complexity of a weapon is inversely proportional to the IQ of the weapons' operator**_

"Wait, I thought _that_ was the trigger." DuQaine said, pointing at the thing that actually looked like a trigger. Jason squinted at the protuberance and then down at the schematic. According to the translation software, the item in question was an intake valve, although what exactly it was supposed to take in, he didn't know. If it was a trigger and he was reading the schematic upside down like he suspected he might have been, well, damn.

"I don't think it actually has a trigger, ma'am." He said, tilting the gun to one side to see if the "intake valve" looked different from another angle. DuQaine grunted in frustration and leaned across his lap, trying to read the tiny writing on the screen of the PDA that due to its short connection cord couldn't move from the workbench. Jason felt a flush creep up his neck and into his face as she balanced herself with one hand on his thigh, grumbling about how she was going to kill McKay.

"Remind me why they wouldn't let the scientists do this?" She asked, leaning back. As the proximity to his commanding officer lessened, Jason felt his embarrassment start to fade.

"Something about a separation of science and strength, ma'am," a direct quote from the Oranian Prime Minister. Apparently on Oran, everyone was a genius, so they automatically assumed everyone else in the galaxy was too.

"How long till they come back for us?" DuQaine said, slumping in her chair and tugging her hat over her eyes. Jason checked his watch so he wouldn't smile at his pouting CO.

"About three hours, ma'am," and since the weapon didn't make any more sense to him – and he was just a stupid grunt, so what did he know? – he put it back on the workbench and folded his arms across his chest.

"If there's anythin' you wanna talk 'bout for the next three hours, now's the time to bring it up." DuQaine muttered, the only visible part of her face her mouth. Since his last couple attempts to initiate a conversation had ended in a disaster – how was he supposed to know that she was a die-hard Phoenix Suns fan? – Jason decided silence really was golden.


	31. Chapter 30

_**Tucker- When you've secured the area, don't forget to tell the enemy.**_

"No," with her big blue eyes narrowed into little slits, her hands fisted on her hips, and her pouty little mouth screwed up into a scowl, Dr. Heindrich looked about as intimidating as an bunny rabbit. Kellen sighed heavily, looked down at the tips of his boots, and then looked back up.

"Ma'am, that wasn't a suggestion. Get your gear packed up. We're buggin' out in fifteen minutes." If anything, the good doctor's scowl deepened.

"And I said, _no._ Today was simply not enough time to record and catalogue these ruins. We need to stay for several more days, possibly a few weeks." Kellen felt his eye start to twitch.

"Well, that's something that you'll have to take up with Dr. Weir and Colonel Sheppard, ma'am. For right now, please pack up your gear because we're leaving." Heindrich opened her mouth to say something, but then apparently thought better of it and snapped it shut.

"Ma'am," Kellen touched a finger to the brim of his baseball cap before doing an about face and heading back towards the rest of his team who sat about forty feet away from the ruins.

"… with makeup, dude. Only suggestion I got since you're a little late in the game for the cold spoons." Bauer was saying as Kellen walked up, taking his usual spot next to DuQaine who currently had Winchester's head in her hands, turning it this way and that as she inspected the bite marks on his neck.

"Jesus Christ, Winchester; is she a botanist or a fucking vampire?" DuQaine said, finally releasing her teammate and sitting back against the log that they'd dubbed 'home base'. Winchester ran a self-conscious hand across his neck as if trying to erase the marks.

"She got a little… carried away." He said and Kellen rolled his eyes. The women of the Botany department were known for trying to make aphrodisiacs from the various alien plant life that was brought back to Atlantis as well as _other _things. Carried away was a euphemism for 'bat-shit crazy' at this point.

"This is why you don't date the chicks from Botany. Even I know that." DuQaine muttered, scratching the side of her own neck as if the bite marks were contagious. "They've all spent too much time inhaling DDT."

"She's not that bad, L-T." Winchester protested. "She's just a little…"

"Crazy?" Bauer offered.

"Horny?" Taylor tossed out.

"Mother-fuckin' bat-shit insane?" the lieutenant said, reaching up and grabbing hold of her ponytail, pulling the elastic out of her hair and shaking the strands loose around her shoulders.

"No." Winchester glared at her, an expression that didn't seem to phase her at all, if the way that she stuck her tongue out at him was any indication. Kellen didn't even try to hide his amusement.

"Hey, guys, what are the scientists doing?" Taylor asked, breaking up what could possibly have been a wrestling match that could have gone either way. Everyone turned to find the group of scientists all sitting on the ground in front of one of the ruins, arms folded across their chests.

"I have no idea, but I'm not likin' what I'm seein'." DuQaine muttered, rising to her feet with a grace that she generally displayed in all aspects of her life. Having three little sisters, Kellen was pretty sure that the lieutenant had been some kind of dancer during her youth. The rest of the team followed her over to the ruins, forming a sort of loose semi-circle around the scientists.

"Dr. Heindrich; is there a problem?" the lieutenant asked, hand resting on the butt of her handgun, affecting a casual pose that Kellen knew could change in an instant.

"We are not leaving. We want to stay and finish out work. This is a peaceful sit-in protest." Had the situation not been the way it was, the look on DuQaine's face would have made Kellen burst out laughing.

"I'm sorry… you're what?" she asked, that casual pose changing as she straightened, her own arms folding across her chest.

"We are protesting." Dr. Heindrich said as plainly as if she was discussing the weather.

"Uh, no, no, you're not." DuQaine retorted, stepping backwards until she was standing next to Kellen. Kellen almost jumped out of his skin as she slung an arm around his waist, pressing close to him. "Because if you don't get off your ass right now, this fine young specimen of a Marine is going to pick you up, throw you over his shoulder and carry you, kicking and screaming back through the Gate." Heindrich's mouth dropped open, but DuQaine wasn't done.

"And as for the rest of you," she said as she released Kellen. "If that is not enough of a motivator for you, I will personally shove my size 9 combat boot up your asses if you do not get movin'."

"You can't threaten us like that! We have rights!" Dr. Heindrich said, kicking her feet a little as if to emphasize her words.

"Not if it puts the rest of my team in danger, you don't. Get up." There was a dangerous tone to the L-T's voice, one Kellen had heard only a few times before, but respected all the same. The last time he'd heard it

"No." apparently, Dr. Heindrich didn't believe the lieutenant's threat. "I am not moving." With a chuckle that didn't even sound humorous, the lieutenant stepped back. Kellen quietly unhooked his P-90 from the front of his tac vest and handed it over to Taylor.

"All righty then; Sergeant, if you would…"


	32. Chapter 31

_**Winchester- Never draw fire; it tends to irritate everyone around you**_

"… not going to happen this time because _this _time we are actually gonna have a plan. Taylor is not gonna get shot in the face within the first fifteen seconds and I am not gonna find myself alone and surrounded by Team 4 who are playing with frozen paintballs." The lieutenant was lecturing on the annual Atlantis paintball tournament, but Jack wasn't paying attention because while this was a team meeting, this was also a team meeting in the L-T's _quarters _and only an idiot would pass up this particular opportunity to look around.

There was a pile of laundry in the corner, all black from what he could see which totally tracked with what he knew about his commanding officer. There was a framed picture on the nightstand of the lieutenant and an older couple that he was pretty sure were her parents. A pair of fighting sticks rested on the counter of the kitchenette in the corner, leading Jack to question exactly what she'd been doing earlier this evening, but he shrugged it off because the lieutenant had always been a little bit… weird.

Shifting under the pretense of stretching his back, Jack took in the second half of the room. A comfortable looking chair sat in the corner, a weird-ass alien lamp standing next to it, and a pile of books on the seat. He'd never taken the lieutenant to be much of an academic, but hey, Taylor sometimes listened to opera and Bauer knew how to curse in Latin. Everyone had their unexplored depths. There was a bookshelf against the far wall that held more books plus some knickknacks that were decidedly alien, but he didn't really get more of a chance to peruse because someone kicked him in the foot and he was jerked back to the conversation.

".. the rules define cheating as exactly?" Bauer asked, a mischievous glint in his eye. DuQaine made a soft grunt that may have been exasperation, looking upon the man with an arched eyebrow.

"Pretty much what all rules to Marine war games say, Gunny. If you're gonna do it, don't get caught." Jack smiled as did the rest of his teammates.

"Do frozen paintballs count as cheating?" Taylor questioned from his spot on the floor at the foot of the bed. It then occurred to Jack that even in the lieutenant's quarters there was still a hierarchy. Tucker sat against the headboard next to the lieutenant, Bauer, O'Neil and himself had taken the rest of the bed and the baby of the team had been resigned to the floor. The thought made him smile.

"Somethin' funny, Winchester?" Jack looked up into the lieutenant's eyes and shook his head.

"No, ma'am," with a shake of her head, she looked away, her eye landing on Bauer who had his head resting on one hand, eyes closed, softly snoring.

"Bauer!" she barked, the Marine jerking awake and almost falling off the bed, taking O'Neil with him. "This is a tactical briefing. Sleep on your own time."


	33. Chapter 32

_**DuQaine- Professional soldiers are predictable. It's the amateurs that are dangerous**_

Hindsight is twenty-twenty. Cherry really, really, really hated that fucking saying. She hated it even more right now as she wiped away the tears with the back of her free hand, smearing dirt and blood across her face.

The hand in hers was so very limp, the pulse against her fingertips thready at the very best and she had stopped looking for the rise and fall of his chest because he was breathing so shallowly.

Less than fifteen minutes ago, Bauer had been walking along next to her, trying to remember a dirty running cadence from boot camp so he could try and make her blush when the gun had gone off. The rest came in flashes of memory that darted before her mind's eye on a mobius strip as she knelt next to the body of her fallen teammate.

The scientist stammering an apology because he hadn't realized that the gun was loaded. Cherry dropping to her knees next to Bauer, tearing at his tac-vest. Finding the bullet hole. Applying the field dressings. Radioing in for help. Realizing that the shaky, panicked voice over the radio was her own. And now the endless wait for help as darkness began to settle.

The scientist stood almost twenty feet away, not daring to come near after his last attempt when she'd snarled at him like a wounded animal. She could hear the soft whine of a Puddle Jumper's engines in the distance, hear the voices clamoring over her radio, but it was all white noise because she was focused on the man in front of her.

"Bauer, they're coming. Keller's in the Jumper and she's got a nice bag of morphine for you." She spoke to the unconscious man, using her free hand to brush his blonde hair back from his forehead. "And if you're really good, I'm going to even let you have the week off…" her words ended in a choked sob and she could feel that last bit of sanity starting to slip away from her.

This was one of her boys. This was one of the men who trusted her. This was a man that she cared for deeply, not only as a teammate, but as a friend. And if he died… the thought stabbed deeply into her chest, making her gasp for air. Somewhere deep in the back of her mind, she could hear her Marine Corps training trying to break free from the prison of emotions, trying to regain control, but it was being overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of the situation.

She was so focused on Bauer that she didn't hear the Jumper land nearby and when the first helping hands touched her, trying to draw her back from the fallen man, she growled, striking out at them, thinking it was that scientist.

"Hey, L-T! L-T!" Taylor's voice penetrated the fog and she glanced dumbly up at him, her vision blurry. "It's okay, it's me." Then she realized that help was there as her men slowly pulled her away from Bauer, letting the doctors swarm in, pulling out needles and fresh bandages, faces determined and professional.

Cherry was dimly aware of Taylor on one side, his arm around her waist and the strong comforting presence of O'Neil on the other side, the latter brushing her hair back from her face. For a moment, she panicked, not seeing Winchester or Tucker and she struggled, calling out their names.

"Cherry." It was the first time that Tucker had ever used her first name and she blindly reached out toward his voice, wanting to make sure that he was okay. He reached around Taylor and took it, the four of them forming an awkward little chain. A hand landed on her shoulder and Winchester's voice echoed in her ear. "We're here, L-T. We're right here and we're not going anywhere."


	34. Chapter 33

_**O'Neil- You have two mortal enemies in combat; the opposing side and your own rear services**_

Jason O'Neil had seen a lot of responses to trauma in his time in the field. Someone going catatonic, someone breaking down, someone freaking out. As he ducked another punch from his lieutenant, he mentally added 'flying into a murderous rage' to the list.

Someone really, really should have kept Dr. Kepler out of the Infirmary, but most attention in the infirmary was on the surgical suite that Bauer had just been wheeled into and on the young lieutenant who was refusing to be looked over by one of the nurses 'just in case'. Besides, it had had just kind of been assumed that Kepler would be smart enough not to come into the Infirmary.

The lieutenant had spotted him first and launched herself off the gurney at him, ranting about killing him and her team had been faced with the proverbial 'rock and a hard place' dilemma: let her kill the man who had shot their teammate or save her from herself.

Winchester had made the decision for them, grabbing the lieutenant around the waist before she reached Kepler and swinging her away. Unfortunately his actions earned him a short, albeit painful first-hand look at exactly how good the lieutenant was at self-defense. She was like a wounded animal, terrified, hurting, and with a one-track mind that was focused completely on the destruction of the scientist who cowered in the corner.

Finally between the two of them, Tucker and Jason had gotten a good enough grip on her to drag her into Dr. Keller's office wherein Tucker promptly slammed the shades down and shut the door as Taylor and Winchester took up guard posts outside. Jason simply dodged her attacks, keeping her from hurting herself more than him until she went to throw a punch and just burst into tears, collapsing to the floor like a marionette with its strings cut.

Tucker took over from there, being the one with actual experience regarding this kind of thing. He gathered the lieutenant onto his lap, cradling her gently like a child and just held her as she sobbed. The sound tore at Jason's heart strings as he watched the woman that he respected more than anything break down in front of him. It had gone past commander and subordinate now. This was his friend and she was hurting and there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it.

They took turns, sitting next to her on the floor of Keller's office, sometimes holding her hand, but mostly just giving her the comfort of their presence. Several hours later, Keller came into her office, looking exhausted, but without an air of defeat and they all knew that was a good sign.

Punctured lung, some spinal cord damage, and a lot of bleeding, but it had all been managed as best it could for now. He would be shipped back to the SGC as soon as possible. Immediately, DuQaine demanded to go sit by his bedside, but Keller had taken one look at her and shook her head. Since it was his turn, O'Neil had been the one to gently lead her from the office, through the crowded infirmary, and out into the hallway, towards the nearest transporter.

She was like a zombie by the time they got to her quarters where he keyed open the lock and moved her inside. He did exactly what he would have done had this been Taylor or Winchester. He walked her straight into the bathroom, still fully clad, and pushed her into the shower, Atlantis turning on the water for him. She sputtered momentarily – always a good sign – and then her eyes came into focus, losing that glassy sheen that they'd developed.

"I need dry clothes." Was all she said before she pulled the shower door closed and started to strip. Jason brought her the clothes, eyes averted and waited by the bathroom door for her to finish, his back to the shower.

A half-hour later, she was sitting on the edge of her bed, toweling her hair off and he was sitting next to the bed in a chair that he'd pulled up from her desk when she stopped and looked at him.

"Stay with me?" taken out of context, the question could have been viewed completely differently, but Jason had been there today, knew what was happening in her mind, so all he said was, "Yes, ma'am,"


	35. Chapter 34

_**Tucker- Military Intelligence is a contradiction**_

"I slept with O'Neil." Judging by the look on O'Neil's face as well as the looks on the two younger team members faces, Kellen Tucker had in fact just heard that correctly. Unaware of the turmoil, she had created – or just not caring – DuQaine continued to saw away at the pork chops that were in her MRE.

Kellen glanced over at O'Neil whose fork remained suspended between his MRE and his mouth, eyes locked on their commanding officer. This was their first mission back in the field since last month when Bauer had been shot. Their teammate had been shipped back to Earth and the shrinks had finally deemed their team ready for off-world travel. Looking at his CO, Kellen wasn't so sure.

"Uh, lieutenant?" she looked up from her MRE and found all of them staring at her. Her eyebrows drew together as she clearly mentally rewound that last sentence and then the light dawned in her eyes.

"Not like that, you perverts. _God_," she muttered, rolling her eyes and looking very much like her old self. "He slept in the bed next to me. The night Bauer was shot."

"And you felt the need to tell us this why?" Kellen asked, arching an eyebrow.

"Full disclosure. That's what Dr. Forrest tells me I need to do. Be completely honest with you guys because otherwise, I have mental breakdowns when my teammates get shot because I have trust issues. Therefore in the interest of full disclosure, I slept with O'Neil. Expect many more self-revelations through this trip or Forrest isn't going to let me go off-world at all anymore." she said, glaring down at the MRE in her lap. "Fair warning though, don't expect all of these self-revelations to be completely true."

Kellen sighed, glancing over at O'Neil who had returned his fork to his MRE tray and was very much so staring at his boots. This was going to be a very long day.


	36. Chapter 35

_**Taylor- The most dangerous this in the world is a 2**__**nd**__** Lieutenant with a map and a compass**_

"Ah-ah-ah-" the rest of the sneeze was cut off as DuQaine buried her face in the crook of her elbow, her blonde ponytail bobbing with the effort that it took to keep the explosion contained.

"Motherfucker." She muttered, wiping her nose with the back of her hand. Tucker ignored the curse, just leaned over and offered her the hand sanitizer that he'd started carrying in a pocket of his flak jacket now that flu season had hit Atlantis. "Mother-goddamn-fucker. I hate bein' sick."

Danny knew. They _all _knew how much the lieutenant hated being sick. Anyone within a three mile radius of one of those sneezes knew how much she hated it. The only one who didn't seem to know was Major Detweiler, the new Air Force officer who had been temporarily assigned to their team by Major Lorne until an actually off-world team of his own could be created.

"Suck it up, DuQaine. The flu won't kill you." The man said as he laced up his boots. Danny watched as the lieutenant drew back the arm that held the hand sanitizer as if she was going to chuck it at the man's head, only to have Tucker snatch the bottle back. With a grunt of annoyance, she settled for a dirty look.

"I'm surprised that Keller cleared you for off-world travel." Detweiler continued, standing up and reaching for his jacket. "Aren't you basically a walking petri dish of germs and viruses?" Danny froze at the comment as did the rest of his teammates, but to his surprise, DuQaine just smiled sweetly at the man.

"It must be all those sexual favors I perform for her, sir." And with that, she spun on her heel and stalked out of the locker room. It took Detweiler a few seconds before his brain registered the comment, but when it did, his mouth snapped shut and he took off after the lieutenant, demanding that she stop and talk to him.

"We're gonna be hearing about that one tomorrow." Tucker said, rolling his eyes. Danny didn't know about the rest of the guys, but he didn't particularly want to hear about that one tomorrow.


End file.
